How special for me
To be present for my blending worlds.
Bring the best of them, and the best of me in them forward.
Watching them watch each other.
How this week has flown, keeping in limbo a holding environment,
Offering me calibration.
Pulling me from what stresses me.
Even hiding my keys.
A Gospel reading on evil called to the surface.
A Black Lives Matter sign to the left of the pulpit.
Children watched by teenagers.
Teenagers watched by adults.
Inverted care triangles.
Closely convened bodies in pews.
Permission to let the blending mature.
Mature enough to invite more blending.
Where we find room for integration,
Neither random nor all at once.
In a cadence that rings slowly.
Making our ears follow our turning heads.
Making us notice what we couldn’t notice elsewhere.
Allowing us to hear invisible feelings.
Enabling us to respond with full selves.
Kindled connections to what remains true, raw, and still unabsorbed.
Surfacing in the room we have made
In our holding containers.
Places of pain.
Where what is surfaced is made real in how we can newly respond.